I Know You Know
by Oldach's Dream
Summary: He knows. And they know he knows. They just can’t admit it. So they talk about motorcycles instead. Shules.


Summary: He knows. And they know he knows. They just can't admit it. So they talk about motorcycles instead. Shules.

Disclaimer: I own everything. I am Steve Franks. … Psych! Ha, had ya fooled, didn't I?

I Know You Know

Subtle clues.

That's what tipped Lassiter off to the goings on of his junior partner and their resident Psychic playboy. Subtle little clues that perhaps everyone would begin to notice over time, but that Lassiter picked up on right away.

She would be smiling after her lunch break. And not her relaxed 'I just got a cup of coffee and a fruit bowl all to myself with no pager interruptions' smile. Not her 'I gave change to a bum and made his day just a little brighter' smile or her 'There was this awesome sale at Nordstrom that I just happened to catch' smile.

No, this was a whole different smile. It was more than smiling, in fact. She was downright glowing. He'd seen it in Victoria's older sister when she'd stayed at their house once during her fifth month of pregnancy. She was glowing.

But O'Hara wasn't pregnant. Or if she was, she was having a midget baby. A midget baby who was going to be born addicted to caffeine and nicotine. Because she hadn't stopped drinking coffee – he'd even stood there and watched her order, double checking that she wasn't secretly downing decaf – and she hadn't stopped hanging around the guys on the squad that smoked, while they were smoking.

His partner was many things, but careless about the future health of a potential child wasn't one of them. Plus, she hadn't gained a pound in three months. She wasn't pregnant.

She was glowing for some other reason.

Then there were the stupid random text messages that always left her giggling. Giggling. _Giggling_.

A police officer never giggles. At the very least, a police officer never giggles while on duty. He didn't care that she was a girl. Or blonde. Or cute. Or dating. Nothing excuses _giggling _while carrying a gun. Nothing.

Not to mention the way she was dressing. It was downright scandalous. Okay, maybe not _scandalous, _but it certainly wasn't professional. Well…okay, she still passed for professional. But just barely. Her tops were tighter and more colorful; her pants sat lower on her hips and sometimes when she stretched, a bit of her stomach became visible from between the two.

Of course, she still wore suits and her hair was still tied back…but again, they were subtle clues. Very subtle.

It didn't take him long to put together that she was dating. And to be honest, he didn't see any problem with it. He was dating, too. Dating was good. Dating helped you separate your work life from your personal life. It helped make the job a little easier to deal with. It was great for relieving stress.

So yeah, her dating? That he was fine with.

It was _Spencer _that he had issues with.

He'd been flirting with her since the first day she was assigned as his junior partner. And he'd been striking out since then, too. Sure, she'd smile, she'd laugh, she'd wave, she'd bicker and she'd leave him breathless and speechless.

She was good at doing that. She had a lot of surprises hidden within her five feet, four inches and a hundred and fifteen pounds of perky blonde optimistic personality.

It'd been fun to watch. Over and over he'd try to wiggle his way in and she would keep him at arm's length. He could tell that the younger man was close to giving up.

Then he'd stopped trying. And Lassiter was so sure that he had won.

It wasn't long, though, before he noticed that Spencer was grinning, too.

The friggin' idiot.

He'd find even more excuses to stop by the station, even more reasons to be close to her.

They were smart, he'd give them that much. They'd realized that if their semi-flirting, bickering thing ceased all together than people would know that something was happening. So, after a two or three day stand-still, everything continued on as normal.

Unless you looked closely. Because if you looked close enough, you could see it. Lassiter saw it, anyway.

She would respond the same way she always did, it would just take a beat too long, be a tad less sincere; and there'd be just the faintest blush tingeing her completion.

And him. He was a better actor. He had to be, what with faking this whole psychic thing day in and day out; but even the unflappable Spencer was screwing up. He'd stand just an inch or two too close, he'd brush her hair behind her ear when he thought no one was looking, he'd sit in her chair instead of Lassiter's.

Oh yeah, they were dating.

o0oo0o

"Now, I want all four of you working on this case," Chief Vick eyed the four parties in question. "Together," she specified.

"Aye, Aye, Captain." Shawn saluted.

"We'll do our best," Gus stepped up, trying to block out his best friend's childlike demeanor all together.

"You got it, chief," Juliet nodded.

Lassiter didn't respond, just watched the other three closely. Soon they were out of her office and standing before each other awkwardly.

They all knew. All four of them knew that Spencer and O'Hara were having an affair. They just didn't know that Lassiter knew. And it was possible that O'Hara didn't know that Guster knew, though Lassiter didn't know how much faith he should put in that.

He had this ongoing theory about Guster and Spencer sharing a brain. It required more research, however.

"Well, I'm thinking we should split up," Spencer spoke first, never one to let the silence fester. "Me and Jules will hit the ex-step-mother's house. She can investigate and I'll see if I can pick up any cosmic sign of guilt. You and Gus can go back to the crime scene and-"

"No." Lassiter interrupted before he'd really thought it through.

"Oh-kay," Spencer and the others were looking at him oddly. "Me and you can go to Mrs. Haling's and Gus and Jules can go back…to…Do you have a better idea, Lassie?" He interrupted himself when the head detective started shaking his head.

"Me and O'Hara will stake out the ex-wife's place and you and your sidekick can snoop around the crime scene." Lassiter decided.

"Okay, first of all," Guster took a step closer, getting in his face somewhat. Lassiter raised his eyebrows at him. "I am _not_ his sidekick."

"You tell 'em, Gus," Shawn cheered him on, staying a safe distance away.

"Second of all, the chief said to _combine _our _collective _resources," he sited verbatim. "That means we split up. It's either you and me, Shawn and Juliet or you and Shawn. Take your pick."

Lassiter clenched his teeth. Hard. What was it his dentist had been saying last month about a night guard? Something to put in his mouth at night to keep him from grinding his teeth like that. Maybe they made them for day use as well.

"Fine," he grit out, giving up right then on the hope that his dentist bill would be anything less than astronomical. "You go with O'Hara to the step-mom's condo and me and Spencer will go back to the crime scene."

Three pairs of eyes stared back at him in shock. He was willingly spending time alone with Shawn Spencer? Yeah, he really couldn't believe it either. But it was better than giving them another chance to be alone together.

"What are you all staring at?" He barked, "Let's get moving. We're not gonna solve this crime just standing around here!"

o0oo0o

"I know you know," Shawn said casually in the car during the ride to the crime scene.

"You know I know what?" Lassiter inquired, playing dumb.

"You know," he shrugged.

"Apparently," he nodded, "But I don't know what I know."

"You know that I know you know." Spencer wasn't looking all that confused by his own word slice and dice.

"Are you sure I know?" Lassiter asked lightly. "Because if I don't know, but you think I know, you might just have to tell me what it is that you think I know. Even if I don't know."

Shawn shook his head, looking very sure of himself. "I know you know. And I know you know that I know. And scaring me into thinking that I might have to tell you what I know because I _think _you know isn't going to work. Because I _know_ you know."

"If you're sure." Lassiter shrugged.

"I'm sure." Shawn nodded. "You know."

"So you're admitting that you're not really psychic?"

Shawn stared for a moment, blinked a few times, pouted, crossed his arms over his chest and glared out the windshield. "The spirits appreciate your joke. I, however, do not."

Lassiter smirked.

o0oo0o

"We should celebrate," Shawn threw his arms up in the air, spinning around in the desk chair just a few too many times and clutching his head a moment after he'd come to a stop.

"That's a good idea." O'Hara was smiling at Spencer's antics. Lassiter frowned. Guster was watching him. "We could go to O'Malley's."

"I'm there!" Shawn jumped out of the chair, swayed to the left slightly and grabbed a desk for balance. "Lassie? Gus? You guys in?"

"I have a meeting tomorrow morning," Guster backed out gracefully. Hell, he might have even been telling the truth.

O'Hara and Spencer were looking at him expectantly. Lassiter wanted to do nothing that night except go home, take a steamy hot shower, sip a nice refreshing beer and fall asleep in front of the TV. He already knew exactly what he'd be watching as he dozed off.

'Absolutely not' was on the tip of his tongue. He wanted out. He wanted to go home.

But Spencer and O'Hara were standing too close again. She was grinning and he was biting his lip. They wanted to be alone.

"I'm in."

o0oo0o

She excused herself to go to the bathroom after their second awkward beer. She hadn't been back in a while. He and Spencer were both halfway through their third awkward beers.

"You know, you don't have to stick around, Lassie," Spencer was telling him, under the guise of sounding concerned. "You did more work today than any of us, what with that foot pursuit. I've never seen anyone leapfrog over a Crown Victoria before." He paused and looked thoughtful. "Well, okay, once. But that was on a movie set and the guy was wearing this bungee cord thing."

"I'm fine." Was his short response.

"Really," Spencer pushed, "I'll tell Jules you hooked up with the waitress. She'll totally understand."

"Why don't _you _go hook up with the waitress," Lassiter challenged. "I can take O'Hara home. She'll totally understand." He mocked the younger man's pervious words and tone.

"I can't do that," Spencer spoke slowly, almost meaningfully. "She's not my type."

"What _is_ your type?" And if his voice sounded at all challenging, then so be it.

"Well, I like 'em smart, ya know? I can tell that waitress wouldn't get passed round one on _Who's Smarter Than a Fifth Grader?" _Spencer was studying him intently. They both knew what they were really talking about. Yet neither wanted to admit that they knew it.

"There are a lot of smart women out there," Lassiter shrugged, "Maybe she's got a roommate in college."

"I like 'em older than that, too," Shawn went on. "Life experience and what not. An exciting story or five. Just not too jaded. I'm a happy guy."

"So you want someone who's smart, but not in college and old but not jaded." Lassiter snorted. "Good luck."

Spencer gave him this pained, kind of kicked puppy look. "Oh," he faked surprise, "I'm sorry, have you already found someone like that?"

The younger man opened his mouth to respond.

"Hey, guys. What I'd miss?" O'Hara returned to their table with a wide grin and Spencer shut his mouth.

"Nothin' much." He shrugged. "Just guy talk."

o0oo0o

"I'm taking my lunch break," O'Hara informed him that next Monday, "I'll be back in an hour."

"Wait," Lassiter stopped her movements short, "I'll come with you."

"You'll…come with me?" She repeated, utterly flabbergasted by the very suggestion, it seemed. Lassiter almost wanted to be offended. Mostly, though, he was just proud of himself for successfully maintaining his wall of antisocial tendencies.

"I'm hungry," he shrugged.

"I was planning on going by that new veggie place," she explained, fiddling with her purse.

"Could always go for an egg-white omelet," he smiled even as he felt his stomach turning over.

"I was just gonna get something to go," she went on, her voice was confident and slightly sarcastic but her eyes darted back and forth a bit – her only tell when she was lying. "Then stop by Macy's for their semi-annual lingerie sale."

Lassiter gulped audibly. "I could use some new socks," he grinned wide, almost painfully trying to hide his grimace. "You know how this job is on socks."

"Great," O'Hara's smile was just as fake as his own. "Just…great."

o0oo0o

"This is getting ridicules."

Lassiter was about to turn the corner to get to the bathroom when he heard their voices.

"He's come out to lunch with me everyday this week. He refuses to take any case that might even somewhat involve you at some point. Which is all of them." She sounded distressed, "Do you think he knows?"

"I know he knows." Spencer was saying, "He just won't admit that he knows. And we can't tell him that we know he knows because we'd be outing ourselves."

"So what do we do? How do we get him off out backs?" She pleaded, sounding fed up, "Because I really did need to shop for bras the other day. All the good clearance stuff is gone by the time I get off work."

"Speaking of getting off…"

Lassiter discovered just then that it was possible to gag silently.

"Shawn," he heard a slight whack and an accompanying yelp. "Seriously, what are we gonna do?"

"We have to put up with it until he admits that he knows," Spencer sighed, "Then we tell him that we have no idea what he's talking about and no one's incriminated."

"I don't think he's gonna admit it, Shawn," she sighed and sounded almost sad, "And I don't think he's gonna be okay with letting it go if he does."

"We'll figure something out, Jules," he was speaking softly, his tone comforting. "I promise."

Lassiter walked away and went to the bathroom on the second floor instead.

o0oo0o

"Is Shawn here?" He felt remarkably like a child asking if his friend could come out and play as he stood before Henry Spencer.

But god damn it, he's not at the station, he's not at his office or his apartment or Guster's apartment or Guster's office and O'Hara _is _still at the station doing paperwork and this is the only place left he can think of.

The elder Mr. Spencer looked at him oddly but nodded just the same, "Yeah. He's in the kitchen." And he held the door open just wide enough to let him through. He was letting him in, but he didn't trust him.

Lassiter couldn't really blame him after that thing on the boat last year.

"Lassie," Spencer looked up, obviously shocked to see him standing there. "What are you doing here?"

"You tell me," he jibed, not knowing what else to do. "You're the psychic."

Henry snorted and Lassiter was pretty sure he'd gained some brownie points there.

"I'm sorry, but my father's been scaling fish out back," Spencer shrugged, looking helpless. "It blocks my wavelengths."

"Right," Lassiter rolled his eyes, crossed his arms and leaned against the door jam. Henry was in much the same position only leaning against the counter. Spencer was the only one sitting down, seemingly at ease with all of this. "Well, I, uh, wanted to talk to you about something."

"A case?"

"Do you really think he'd come here to discuss a case?" Henry piped up, looking interested. Lassiter wondered if he knew, too.

"Not unless it was personal." Spencer concedes. "Is it personal?"

"It's not a case." He informs. He thinks about asking Spencer to step outside, but decides against it because…well, because it was ninety-eight degrees outside and this house was nice and air-conditioned. "I wanted to talk to you about…your motorcycle."

_What? _He thought to himself.

"What?"

"What?" The two Spencer's spoke almost simultaneously and Lassiter realized with a cringe that he'd rather be getting heat stroke than talking about this, like this.

"Your motorcycle." He repeated, trying his best to sound confident. "You ride it a lot, right?"

Spencer was staring at him oddly, trying to figure out where this was going, but he answered anyway. "Yeah, almost everyday."

"Almost?" He echoed.

"Sometimes I get a ride from Gus," he shrugged. "Why, ya wanna buy it?"

"No," Lassiter shook his head, "I, uh, I had one once."

Henry's eyes widened in shock but Spencer's – well, Shawn, he supposed, since there were two of them in the room – Shawn's narrowed in suspicion.

"You had a bike?" Henry questioned.

"While back," he shrugged. "But I had to give it up. It just didn't fit right, ya know?"

"Deathtraps," Henry muttered.

"Yeah," Lassiter agreed absently, "It was never really mine, exactly. I was just holding on to it until I could get a good deal on it. It fell into my lap, kinda. I hated the damn thing at first…but I got pretty attached after a while."

"Bikes are like that," Shawn nodded, gaze not wavering.

"Yeah," Lassiter was holing his own with the staring, "But a lot of people think bikes are just fast and fun. They don't really realize that they're legitimate modes of transportation. They let 'em get rusty in the winter, they trade 'em in when something better comes along...they take them for granted."

Henry stopped commenting and Lassiter wouldn't break eye contact with Shawn long enough to look over and see what his eyes were saying.

"I know what you mean," Shawn spoke confidently. "My bike's a beauty, though. Love 'er to death. I'd never trade her in. No matter how much my dad, or anyone else, thinks I should."

Lassiter nodded. "The bike I had, like I said, it was never mine, but I refused to give it up to just anybody. After a while it wasn't about the money so much, it was like… I had to find someone who would…treat her with respect."

Shawn smiled a genuine smile. "I understand that," he agreed, "And, you know, if I had bought that bike off you, I would have treated it right."

"Are you sure?" Lassiter challenged, "Because you're an immature prick. I don't know if you could have handled it."

"Oh, I could have handled it," Shawn assured confidently, not at all offended by Lassiter's words. "The right bike can change a person. Take them from casual weekend driver to full-time motorcycle enthusiast. I've seen it happen."

"I haven't." Lassiter bit.

"Sure you have," Shawn said this casually enough, but his eyes spoke of a deeper meaning.

Lassiter took a deep breath and tilted his head slightly. "Maybe," he agreed. "But there's no going back once that bike is yours. If you get tired of it later…"

"I won't get tired of it." Shawn assured.

"It would never be the same again," he warned, "It may look the same, sound the same and ride the same, but you can never replace the miles that you used up."

"I _know_." Shawn insisted. "And I would never take it for granted. Your bike. I would never hurt it."

Lassiter nodded sharply, realizing they'd lost the metaphor for a moment. "Yeah, well, if I _had _sold you that bike, when I had it, I wouldn't have let you just drive off with it. I'd have kept a close eye on you. Make sure you were treating her right."

"That's fair," Shawn nodded and smiled. "Really, I'd expect nothing less of you. But, Lassie…you would've eventually have had to back off a little, don't you think? I mean, your bike or not…it would have been mine by then, right? You did say you were just holding onto it. Maybe it was meant for me."

"That may be so," Lassiter said gruffly, "But that doesn't mean that she doesn't need someone looking out for her."

"And she appreciates that." Shawn smiled at him and Lassiter rolled his eyes, and yeah, maybe he was smiling for just a moment, too. "But you might want to dial it back a bit. Bikes were meant to be…appreciated…not fenced in."

"We'll see how it goes, Spencer," Lassiter lowered his gaze. "You might just deserve her after all."

Henry cleared his throat and Lassiter and Shawn both turned to him, having forgotten for a few minutes that he was in the room at all.

"You're not actually talking about a motorcycle, are you?" He asked wearily.

Lassiter just shrugged and looked at Shawn. "I'll see you at work, Spencer." And then he walked out.

Henry was _his_ father.

Let Shawn figure out how to explain away that one.

o0oo0o

As Lassiter trotted through the heat and back to his car, he went through the events of the past few weeks in mind and cringed at one particularly painful one that just wouldn't leave him alone.

He still couldn't believe that he'd stepped foot inside a _Macy's. _

O'Hara and Spencer better live happily ever after, after everything that he'd gone through for them.

They _owed _him a happily ever after.

And they knew it.

**Fin**


End file.
